The cool autumn air fills your lungs as you move through the square. The rich loam of the earth is springy underfoot and the sounds of vendors and merchants touting their wares is like a song to your ears. The people of Sharlstown move in a strange but soothing pattern across the way and you spot many familiar standbys. The baker, with pastries and breads aplenty. The cobbler with repair services and offers to commission boots. The local constabulary keeping an eye out and maintaining the peace of the morning. Everything is as it should be in small town on the edges of the Naerenth Forest, and you find yourself breathing deeply as you join the throngs.
You pass quickly and politely through the crowds as you make your way to the job board. Every town of this size has one, and though you haven’t seen it yet, you’re confident that it’ll be close to the square. There, just beyond the well, two trimmed posts and a cut of lumber all nailed together with the tasks and errands of the townsfolk posted with various promises of recompense for services rendered. Familiar, but to be sure, different from other similar posting-boards you’ve come across in your travels.
You move closer and start to scan the scrawled (and occasional printed!) job offers. It’s mostly typical; someones goat was killed by a troll, a witch needs ten raven feathers for an incantation she’s been working on, there’s a lych that needs to be put to rest, ect. You sigh and glance around the board at the others gathered there, as always there’s a few locals with a sword or axe looking to make their place in the world. But more prominent are the other adventurers. Wanderers, vagrants, Pathfinders.
They all shift and move, showcasing various levels of experience and capability. Well worn armor and weapons clink and scrape as those that can read scan the board for a task that suits their particular set of skills. One in particular catches your eye, a Human woman, attractive by most senses of aesthetics, though with a vicious scar that runs across her cheek down to the jaw-line. She wears the heavy banded mail as if she were born in it and a long well-honed sword hangs at her hip.
You’re just about to give up on the postings when you notice a faded parchment, a faded parchment with fresh ink . It’s nearly covered by other job offers but you can see the most important part of any job posting, the reward. The job is offering one-thousand gold pieces upon completion. One-thousand for a single job! You’ve barely seen that sum in your entire adventuring career, much less for a single task.
You reach out to grab the paper, but before you do the raven-haired warrior woman snatches it up with a smirk! She quickly reads the document, and you’re only barely able to catch the posters location before she stuffs the entire post into the neck of her armor. The Hole. A tavern on the edge of town, you’d seen it as you arrived but had yet to have reason to go there. Apparently the job-offerer wants to meet any adventurers who are willing to undertake the task, and they want to meet them there.
You glance up and catch the fighters eyes. She looks at you knowingly, and before you can even open your mouth she turns and starts sprinting towards the edge of town! If you hope for any chance to claim the job (and it’s prize!) yourself you’re going to have to beat her there!
The whole situation is strange enough, but something about the fighter's smirk tells him that he should probably beat her to the tavern. Without missing a beat, Cath takes off after the fighter. Knowing a little bit about the town's layout, he plans a route that he hopes will cut off some distance. At the edge of the square, he leaps over the vegetable seller's stand, trying to upset the cart as little as possible, and bolts down a side alley.
The fighter from Dutos easily clears the stand, and with a spin and pivot places himself nearly equal to the woman, parallel down the side street.
For Sparks Clearpath the small, battered flyer promising a large reward was the way out... the way forward... it was... or at least might have been... everything. Already weary from yet another bad night's sleep, from yet another order canceling, from yet another threateningly worded official guild communication waiting for her in a sealed envelope, the Elven maiden's eyes light up as she spots the faded parchment. All she had to do was pull the paper down from its place on the board and maybe, just maybe, the offer would be something... some tasks she could reasonably accomplish. Sparks pushes her way through the hustle of crowd and reaches for the board... only to have a shorter woman wearing a full set of armor snatch her prize away.
For a brief moment Sparks' spirits fade. To save herself from further embarrassment she purposelessly pulls back a different offer pretending to check for anything behind it. With none of the other offers being substantial enough or feasible enough to bother with, Sparks is about to go back to her troubles when the raven haired fighter turns and looks smugly over the crowd in front of her... almost as if offering a challenge. For the briefest of instants Sparks is sure the woman is even looking directly at her! The woman dashes forward, in the direction of the indicated tavern and Sparks, despite her tiredness and accumulating worries, feels her pulse quicken as she too breaks into a sprint, one hand on the string of the bow strung cross her back to keep it steady, hoping to catch the armored thief... or perhaps even beat her to their now common destination.
The woman in armor got a decent head start, but while her bulkier armor forces her to push and circumvent her way through the market, Sparks, wearing nothing more than one of her drab work outfits, is able to maintain something near her full speed as she nimbly ducks, darts, and dodges her way between the obstacles in her path.
The Elven archer leaps and pirouettes smoothly through the crowd until she can break into a sprint at the edge of the square. Quickly she pulls up alongside the armored warrior, who looks over first in surprise and then challenging respect as she redoubles her own sprint to the tavern.
The old gnome certainly noticed the faded posting first, but it was tacked just out of his each. A short hop brushed his fingers against the edge of the parchment, and his efforts drew the attention of the raven-haired woman. Smiling up at her, thinking that she meant to hand the paper to him, he mutters “Ast barus…” under his breath when she pockets the job offer out of reach.
Umros Whippoorwill shifts the weight of his pack with a grunt. His overlong eyebrows furrow to remember any shortcut to the Hole that smaller feet could find.
A wild smile grows under his enormous white moustache as his threadbare boots pick up speed. Glass phials tickle with every step as the backpack jostles and his tall purple hat bobs up and down. A good footrace ought to be fun…
The jingle-jangling Gnome makes his way through the crowd and across the square trundling under the vegetable cart that a human male just leapt over. Following the armored man into the alley-way the pointy-hatted wanderer finds a narrow passage where two buildings are placed a little too close together. Sucking in his, admittedly negligible, gut the Gnome squeezes through and finds himself at the front of the group. Though with three runners rapidly bearing down on him.
Tainesh Ludor has the look of someone who has never done this sort of adventuring thing and isn't quite sure how to go about it. She wears an explorer's outfit, leather breaches full of pockets and a canvas jacket tailored to fit her narrow (everywhere but the waist) frame. Her hair is done in a functional braid and reaches down to the middle of her back. But unlike many of the other adventurers, she obviously bathes regularly and her clothes are clean and pressed and probably not more than a few days old. She wears them not as clothes, but as a uniform to advertise that she is an adventurer, willing to brave the great unknowns for money.
The biggest clue to her past occupation are her hands. Long, dexterous fingers indelibly stained with ink and discolored by spell components. As she searches the board, fellow adventurers can see a callus on her formed from long hours of holding a quill.
She skims the flyers and tries to quash her disappointment. Everything sounds like a waste of her time, her talents, or both. She has a neat list of goals she wants to accomplish in life, and she doubts that retrieving raven feathers for a hedge witch will get her there.
But that one... that one was worth noticing. One thousand gold pieces could buy a year of study at a university.
"Hey! I was reading that!" Tianesh protests as the warrior snatches the flyer.
In a heartbeat, the warrior is gone. Another one is in hot pursuit, and a shorter, white-haired elf is right behind them. A Gnome zips off in a slightly different direction. That makes for four jobseekers ahead of her, possibly with better qualifications and definitely more experience.
Except, with a thousand gold pieces on the line, they won't be ahead of her.
"Arelaitch!" she cries as she pushes to the edge of the crowd. The knot of arcane energy that was always at the back of her mind swelled, and the forged steel ring on her finger glowed. A spell was woven out of arcane energy, the different thaumaturgical components fabricated and fitted into place in the blink of an eye. It hangs in her mind for a moment before the verbal command and the practiced motion of her fingers activate it. Arcane energy surges through her body and discharges into the world around her, leaving the universe unchanged except for one single aspect:
Tainesh Ludor can now keep pace with champion sprinters.
With quarterstaff held before her and a scroll box bouncing at her hip, the wizard charges through the marketplace, closely following the same route taken by the female warrior.
The gathered local yokels stumble away from the display of arcane knowledge, while the more seasoned quest-workers laugh at the greenhorns discomfort. The crowd parts before the mage as water before a ship and she gives chase through the streets. Quickly overtaking the leading runners the wizard nearly bowls over as the Gnome appears from nowhere right in front of her!
Seeing the lead slip from her grasp, the raven-haired woman frowns and
1-25=Cath
26-50=Sparks
51-75=Umros
76-100=Tainesh
swings her sheathed blade at the wizards legs!
The sheathed-blade catches in Taineshes legs and causes the woman to tumble forward into an awkward roll. The wizard is able to quickly get to her feet again, though she sees that she's fallen behind the others!
With the way her lungs are wheezing and her legs are aching, Sparks knows she doesn't have much more sprint in her. On a good day, if she were well rested, she might easily be leading the impromptu race pack, but tired as she is, she is already beginning to fall behind the armored woman and her male accomplice... 'Or is he an adversary?'
All of a sudden, a third racer, a tall slim human girl running with remarkable speed, overtakes them all only to be tripped a second later. The young woman tumbles to the ground directly in Sparks' path! Sparks attempts to swerve...
...and does manage to avoid striking the fallen woman saving them both from certain injury, but loses her own footing a step later. She only just manages to shift her weight and twist her body so as to avoid falling on her prized longbow. Instead, she lands painfully on her right shoulder and skids to a stop not far in front of the job seeker she only just avoided. Checking back, Sparks sees the young woman has already gotten to her feet, that much is good news... of a sort. Ahead, the race to The Hole continues and now a Gnome has joined in. 'Where did he come from?'
Sparks pulls herself to her feet and dusts herself off before she begins to move again, but now her previous enthusiasm has left her. She speeds up to merely a moderate jog and displays a slight limp as she is careful not to put too much weight on her right foot which she twisted somewhat during her fall.
'Maybe at least I can see what all of the fuss was about,' she thinks as she pushes herself forward.
After only a few moments, Cath realizes that he's not the only one in pursuit. Who are all these people?! He delicately jumps over the young women who are sprawled across the street, mumbling a quick, “Ladies,” as he passes and continues on the fighter's heels. As they round a corner, Cath notices a construction area up ahead with a barrel suspended in the air by a pulley system…
…and sees an opportunity! Pulling his kukri, Cath wraps his hand around one of the ropes connected to the barrel and cuts the rope free.
The canny fighter launches into the air as the barrel full of building bricks plummets to the ground below. He lands lightly on the roof of a half-renovated building. From his vantage point he can see the taverns entrance just across the way! Scanning the street in front of the bar he spots a wagon piled with fresh-cut hay. He's about to keep searching when he sees the runners rounding the corner. With only seconds to spare he spreads his arms wide and leaps from the roof! In the distance one can hear the call of an eagle as it swoops down on its prey...
“Ha!”
The old alchemist’s cry of success dwindles when the four longer-legged creatures cover the ground gained from his shortcut. He snickers when he sees them bumble into each other. Knowing the destination to be just ahead, he pinches the wooden charms dangling from his wrist, squeezing just a bit of good fortune to reach the Hole before the armored woman.
Come on, Lady Luck! Quicken these creaky knees!
At first, he worries that one-thousand gold pieces just aren’t in the cards this time, when quite suddenly his legs feel decades younger. Every step springs him closer to the tavern, as memories of sprinting over the wilderness in his youth fill his white-haired noggin.
The Gnome feels pure luck move and flow around him as he makes a dash for the last few yards to the entrance. But just when he thinks he's home free, his feet catch on an unlikely-placed rock and sends him tumbling forward! Luckily taking him under and past the boots of a hay-covered fighter bursting from the wagon to his right!
The elderly Gnome blinks at the fighter for half a second before clambering to his feet and rushing through the door into The Hole. The Half-Elf fighter is hard on his heels, and behind him crash both the raven-haired woman and willowy wizard. A second or two later the Elven Ranger limps in behind them.
As the group bustles through the wooden door the sight of a dimly lit and somewhat grungy dining hall greets you. Those who are not blessed with the ability to see in the dark take a moment while their eyes adjust to the low light. When you can, you notice just how empty the tavern is. The barkeep, momentarily stunned by the sudden appearance of so many adventurers, goes back to wiping down his few glass containers with a dirty rag. Aside from him and his not-quite-sullen look, there is only one other person in the bar. A haggard and worn woman sits near the fireplace to one side of the room. She may have at one point been fair to look apon, but her emaciated features and blank stare have driven all beauty from her countenance.
After a couple of seconds pass the man behind the bar asks in a gravelly tone; ”So, ya gonna stand there gawping? Or ya gonna order a drink?”
“Uh, sure… a coffee,” Cath responds absentmindedly while he looks around the room, his eyes easily accustomed to the dim light. It's either the barkeep or the old lady… Fifty-fifty.
Before the others can react, Cath moves to the old woman and sits down next to her. “Ma'am,” he offers as a greeting. “You the one who posted on the job board?”
For a moment Sparks just stands in the doorway gawping at the collection of adventures that beat her. It seems foolish to stay any longer than she absolutely must, too many other things need doing, but her curiosity continues to get the better of her and she can't help but ask, "I saw the payment and location... but before I get back to my work, would there be any harm in my knowing what the rest of it said?"
Tainesh Ludor bursts into the tavern on the heels of Cath and Umros, panting heavily, with hair and jacket in disarray and a snarling tomcat under one arm. She pauses, steps back out, and re-enters a few moments later without the cat.
"Tea, please," she says as she stares at the scratches on her hand. "And a spoonful of honey, if you have it."
Blushing luminously, she goes to sit down at the old lady's table. "Hello. I am Tainesh Ludor, and I would like to apply for a job."
Bursting into the tavern, the old gnome’s spirits sink to see it so empty. Why is he even open? Where are the people?! His curious, silvery eyes move over every piece of furniture, the crackling orange fire, the old crone, the bar, and the variety of bottles and kegs plain to the eye. The bartender’s question pulls him from the musing, and he cracks a grin and answers in a melodic cadence. “You mistake me, barkeep. Goppy is the gnome that works at the stables in Dutos. Goppy Quick-Hoppy Under Clip-Cloppy, I think he goes by…” he trails off, distracted by a thought. He shakes his head to himself as he ambles further into the tavern.
“And yes. Wine sounds good. Or mead. Whatever a silver will get me,” he absently reaches into a pocket and flicks a silver coin toward the bartender, his attention now on the elderly woman. He shrugs off his heavy backpack, and lets it rest beside the table.
Without asking, he pulls a wooden chair next to the woman, and climbs to stand on the seat. Even then, his eye level is a mere five feet or so, in a room where the tall folk are unusually tall. But now, he see the old woman much better.
Peering at her decrepit features perhaps a little too closely, he exclaims, “Desna’s grace, you look even older up close! What a life you must’ve seen!” His eyes brighten, his stunted posture excitable and attentive, he slaps his hands on the table, “Congratulations! Surely you’ve got a story or two to tell!”
The gnome wanderer’s enthusiasm does not match one whose white moustache hairs extend beyond the width of his shoulders, the color gone from them decades ago. Nonetheless, his smiling eyes beam from a wrinkled and weathered face.
"A person's age is no laughing matter!" Tainesh hisses at the Gnome.
The young woman’s rebuke catches the gnome off-guard, and he stifles what would’ve been a hearty laugh down to a chuckle. “I wasn’t laughing! I mean, now I am, but I wasn’t a second ago!”
His chuckle diminishes to a warm smile as he regards the bookish girl. “I was celebrating, not making fun. When you get as old as me and her,” he sticks a small thumb in the direction of the silent old crone, “memories are more important. Heh, and some memories are a laughing matter.”
The man behind the bar grunts and brings an iron pot to hang over the embers in the fireplace. He returns to the bar and is about to pour a dark wine when he hears the Gnomes outburst. Jaw locking he puts the fancy bottle away and pulls out a grimy flask out from under the bartop. Pouring a small cup of sweet mead out of the bottle he brings it over and places it on the table in front of the mustachioed Gnome.
At first the woman doesn't seem to notice any of the new-comers to the hall. But after the bartender makes his rounds she turns her thousand-yard stare to face the group. Confusion gives way to understanding and with a great shudder the woman looks at each of you, making eye contact one by one. ”You, you will help me?” She asks, disbelief and mistrust apparent in her tone.
“That depends… are you the one who offered a thousand gold on the job board?” Cath asks again, wanting to make sure he's talking to the right person before making any promises.
Sparks' question hangs in the air unanswered for a full minute as the strangers before her begin ordering drinks as if they had nothing better to do. 'Wouldn't that be nice...' she thinks wistfully as most of the strangers move to sit around the lone, disoriented looking old woman and begin pestering her about the job offer she almost certainly had nothing to do with. The old woman's confused response just serves to drive home Sparks' impression that she has as little idea about the faded parchment as those asking her about it.
For a brief moment Sparks struggles with herself... On one hand, while a thousand gold would not be enough to obtain help for her family, it would go a long way to solving her current problems with the guilds. Things would be much simpler without their interference. On the other, there was no indication that the offer of a thousand gold was legitimate and not some gag posted by delinquent youth. A near empty tavern with nothing more than a confused old woman didn't seem too reassuring to Sparks. And even if the offer was real, she did not have the posted offer in hand, the raven haired woman did, and she wasn't talking. And further besides that, there were three other adventurers in line before her. If the old woman truly needed help she already appeared to have all she would need.
'Better fortune to all of you than has been afforded me,' Sparks offers silently to those before her as she makes up her mind. With no undue fuss or fanfare she turns to exit the tavern and get on with her day's work.
Tainesh doesn't answer the old woman's question. One thousand gold pieces was a princely sum, but less so when it was split four ways.
Or, perhaps, three ways. The elf seems to have lost her nerve and is leaving the tavern. One less competitor for the job was welcome, but she had done her best not to kick Tainesh in the face when she tripped over her.
"Hey," Tainesh yells. "You took a nasty fall in the rush to get here. Are you alright?"
Sparks, not expecting her departure to be noticed, is stopped short of the door by the young woman's question. She forces down her embarrassed flush then turns and answers with, "I twisted my ankle somewhat but... I have suffered worse falls. I was more worried about your leg. I have never seen someone run so fast and this one was not exactly gentle," Sparks says accusingly, indicating the armored raven haired woman.
"You could at least tell us what you were willing to break a leg for," Sparks says, addressing the other woman with newfound courage at having a potential ally in the room.
The gnome spares a sideways glance at the bartender before turning to listen to the distraught woman. He takes a sip of the mead and nods at the rich flavor. The cart-crashing warrior man asks the question before Umros can get it out, so he keeps silent.
The wanderer half-listens to the exchange between the two women, idly drumming his little fingers on the wooden table. When their attention turns to the instigator of the footrace minutes ago, he looks up.
Before anyone can gang-up on anyone else, he interjects with a beckoning gesture, “Here. It won’t help wounded pride, but this might take the sting out of the step...”
Raising a hand, he whispers a prayer. The two wooden charms that hang from the braided hemp rope bracelet, a crescent moon and a four-point star, sparkle faintly, like silver starlight. The energy washes over those nearby, and wounds old and new begin to mend.
Sparks moves over to the table the Gnome sits at but then her eyes go wide and she takes a single, tentative step back as she realizes what he is about to do.
The gentle, familiar, healing energies wash about the room, but for Sparks, at least, they are partially rebuffed... Though not enough to prevent the lingering pain in her ankle and shoulder from quickly fading to nothing.
”Mzazi…” Sparks mumbles to herself, eyes now closed, as the healing spell dissipates. Realizing that she may not have spoken as quietly as she intended and that she may have been overheard, Sparks gives the as yet unnamed cleric a slight bow and says, ”My apologies. You startled me and reminded me of… less pleasant times. I know that such healing is not given out lightly and for that you have my sincere thanks."
"Yes. Tripping was unwarranted." Tainesh says with as straight of a face as she can muster. Truth be told, she'd been planning to do the exact same thing. In her mind's eye, she can see herself tripping the warrior with her quarterstaff, a perfect confluence of timing and leverage inspired by diagrams in the fighting manuals she'd read. Just her luck that the warrior had beaten her to it.
The healing catches the wizard completely unaware, and she stares at the cuts from the road and the tomcat as they fade away to nothing. "Next time you do that, warn me. I would like to see it coming."
'I guess I'll have that honey in my tea.'
The a warrior with the jet-black hair snorts and rolls her eyes. "Pff, you're fine. I barely even touched you." Casting a sidelong glance at the archer she says; "Don't be such a milquetoast, it's not my fault that you fell. Yeesh, whoever heard of an Elf what can't keep her feet?" She turns to the haggard woman by the fire. "Yes. At least I am here to help you-" She pulls the parchment out and scans it, "help you find your, son?" This last she asks with the lilt of a question in her tone.
At the word the wan woman by the fire nearly begins to cry, but she quickly composes herself, and straightens up in her chair. With an air of regality that wasn't there moments before she addresses the two fighters and wizard showing interest. "Yes. My son." The catch in her voice belies the equanimity she portrays.
"My son, James, he has gone missing." She leans forward, hands clasping at a piece of cloth you notice she's been holding. "I know he's still alive!" The tears threaten to return, and she shudders holding it back.
"Please, he is my only son, I know he's alive. I know it!" She clutches at the rag and starts to rock forward and back. Her eyes shut tightly and she sits like this for several seconds. Once again the composure returns and with a deep breath she opens her eyes and looks at the assembled group. "And yes, though it may not look it, I do have the money. A thousand gold. My life's work, I will give it to you when you return my son to me." You can see the earnestness in her eyes. "I would pay a hundred times the sum for my son..."
Cath notices the barkeep's silent gesture and makes a note to himself to ask the keep for more information.
“Well, then. My name is Cath. How old is your son? When did he go missing?”
She focuses her attention on the man Cath. "He is ten and one years." She sniffs "He's been gone for two weeks..."
'Of course you barely touched me. That is how a trip is supposed to work. And if the Elf was a milquetoast, she would have been too timid to confront you. You should stick to insults whose meaning you actually know,' Tainesh thinks venomously.
"I believe that we should start with names," she says. "I have given you mine, but I don't know yours or... Any of you, really."
Nodding at the suggestion, Sparks turns away from the raven haired woman, ignoring her insults, and speaks to the others saying, "My name is Mkali Moto Kipande Njia’yawazi, though most know me as 'Sparks Clearpath'. To be honest, I prefer the Common as I find it is easier for others to pronounce."
Responding to the desperation in the woman's voice, Sparks chooses her words carefully and asks, "Ma'am? Would it be wrong for to assume you have already asked the town guard for assistance?"
'A thousand gold, even split among all of us, is as much as I make in a year, if only I can get in on this job...'
“And I'm Cath… Cath Ringor,” the half-elf introduces himself, then follows up Sparks' question with another, “And what were the circumstances of your son's… of James' disappearance? I know it's difficult to talk about, but details might mean everything.”
Sparks gives Cath, and his ears in particular, a quizzical second look but holds any comments she might have so as not to interrupt further.
The old gnome shrugs at Tainesh’s dislike of unexpected healing. “You don’t like surprises?” he teases.
He falls silent when he hears the mother’s predicament, and his face looks thoughtful with introspection as the others ask their questions. Suddenly Umros drains his cup of mead and looks up in time to catch the barkeeper’s appraisal of James’ disappearance. The others persist in their questioning of the missing son, and it makes the gnome uncomfortable.
He reaches out a hand, but can’t remember how humans comfort each other. Largely, he saw them only in business deals or merrymaking. Gnome customs sometimes backfired in his past travels, so he learned not to assume, but he still felt for the mother’s distress. Why can’t she be grumpy like everyone else here? I’ve slain the Mighty Grumpus a hundred times before and I can do it again. Retracting his hand, he nearly falls off the chair while stooping down to his pack. Digging around for a minute, he produces a normal sized wine bottle that looks comically oversized in his tiny hands. Using the cup that once contained mead, he pours a generous amount and pushes the deep red wine toward the woman beside him. “For the nerves,” he mutters before clearing his throat and raises his voice when Tainesh asks for names.
“I’ve known a thousand names: Student, Teacher, Husband, Father, Fighter, Lover, Traitor, Confidant, Vagrant, Prince, Alchemist, Priest, Luckturner, Fatebringer, Seeker... “ he turns a winning smile to the sonless mother, “...and Finder, to say a few. My parents called me Umros. It suits me well enough. Umros Whippoorwill, at your service.”
He doffs the tall purple and gold hat and makes a low sweeping bow, his nose nearly brushing the tabletop.
Straightening, he returns his hat to his head. Palming the cork back into the wine bottle, the gnome stoops again to repack the wine onto his enormous burden.
A small smile appears on Sparks' face as the Gnome's list continues growing and growing. She offers a quiet chuckle as he cleverly finishes with the combination of seeker and finder.
"Faint o'r rheiny yn cael eu haeddu?" she ask good-naturedly as Umros repacks his bag. Her Gnomish is perfectly passable despite her slightly Elvish pronunciation.
Umros looks up with a smile at the sound of his mother-tongue. “Efallai mwy nag ydych yn meddwl, fy annwyl.” The wanderer answers elusively with a wink and a grin.
“Perhaps more than you think, my dear.”
"Yeah yeah, name's Langblade. Now if we're done with the idle yapping, some of us are trying to find this poor woman's son!" The raven haired woman points back and forth between herself and Cath while giving the others a shut-up-already look.
She rests a strong-looking hand on her sword pommel and waits for the mother to continue.
The haggard woman looks at Umros with a blank stare, but after a moment takes the cup and sips at the strong drink.
The woman by the fire presses her hands into her lap and speaks calmly and concisely. ”My name is Leah Elenath, and yes, the guards were the first people I asked.” Her eyes lose focus as she recounts the past two weeks. ”He, James, keeps a regular schedule. During the day he stays home and tends the house, our garden…” It’s obvious that speaking of the details is painful for her, but it’s equally obvious that she is pressing on by sheer force of will. ”I, I work nights, so I sleep most of the day.” She looks down into her lap. ”He always stays up, for when I get home. He always smiles for me, my boy…” She pauses. ”He was up for me that night, it was just after midnight when I got in, like usual. I tucked him in, and fell asleep, exhausted.”
Leah’s eyes fill with tears, and this time they fall unhindered. Her voice is soft and dead. But her eyes are pressed tightly shut, as if to drive off the images of that night. She shudders and takes several moments to breathe before she’s able to continue. ”When I woke it was late morning, almost noontime. He, he wasn’t there. He is always there. But that morning, he wasn’t. I heard nothing in the night, I’ve heard nothing since.”
As if from nowhere her fist slams into the table, rattling the cups and single unlit candle. ”I asked the guards, I begged the guards to find my son!” Her teeth knash with pent up fury and sorrow. ”They did for him! They didn’t care at all!” The storm of rage passes and the dead horror returns. Elenath sags in her seat, head bowed. Almost to herself she says. ”He loved the woods. He loved the growing things.”
Tainesh Ludor misses the Bartender's look entirely, irritated as she is by Umros's rhapsodic enumeration of his names and the brief Gnomish exchange. That irritation then shifts towards Langblade, whose curt manner negated any points she earned for being in the right.
Halfway through Leah's explanation, Tainesh pulls out a piece of parchment and starts taking notes.
'What does she do for a living?'
'Who is the father? Where is he?'
The mention of the local woods makes her frown and think for a moment, but then it's back to scribbling in Mage's Shorthand.
'Where does she live? How close to the woods?'
Sparks lights up at the woman's quiet mention of the woods and attempts to keep her enthusiasm and boastfulness in check as she asks, "You think your son may have ventured into the woods? If so, I would be an ideal choice to help in the search. I lived in and explored the Naerenth practically all my life!"
Noticing the barkeep's animated expressions, and still giddy from the chance she may very well be useful, Sparks then calls out to him somewhat indelicately, "Do you know something about this... um, sir?"
There's one word that most easily describes the Naerenth Forest.
Large.
The parts of it that Tainesh has seen have appeared to be mostly deciduous but it's easy to see in the distance many trees appear to be larger pines. Especially to the North. Sharlstown is right on the Western edge of the forest. About half a mile away, though in areas the trees are mere hundreds of feet from the towns border.
Tainesh has heard many stories and tales about the Forest. It is very old, and full of things that haven't seen the sun in centuries. The harder thing to determine is how many of the stories have any truth. She recalls to mind one tale in particular concerning scattered populations of fey in some of the more distant reaches of the wood.
Sparks grew up about 3 days journey South-East of Sharlstown, in a relatively well-known, if underpopulated, section of the Naerenth Forest. In truth, she and her family had more dealings with Dutos to the South than Sharlston over the years. In her travels Sparks has seen much of the Southern and South-Western edges of the Forest. She knows it extends quite far both to the North and to the East, but she's never had much occasion to travel in those directions. Though she doesn't know the exact dimensions of the Naerenth, she's fairly certain that in her wanderings she's never been to the Center of the Forest. Though she can't readily put her finger on it, she's always had a sinking suspicion of the Northern parts of the Naerenth. Perhaps this general feeling of unease has prevented her from ever traveling far in that direction.
Ultimately the one thing that Sparks knows above all else regarding the Forest, is that it is for the most part, unknown. Maps are vague and lack detail. Stories and anecdotes vary wildly in both believeability and length. Most people who call the Forest their home accept that they'll never know everything about it.
As for the Natural aspects of the Naerenth, Sparks knows that the parts she has seen have been mostly deciduous, with coniferous pines being more abundant the further you travel North. The fauna is varied and rich throughout the Forest, with the majority being mundane living creatures. Magical beasts do call the Forest home, though they are often canny enough to keep to themselves. She can think of one thing that's stood out in her mind specifically. A type of apple that is only known to grow in a particular copse of the Forest. These apples are treasured not only for their taste, both crisp and sweet, but also for the restorative properties they posses. It has been hypothesized that the apples were made magically by a wizard-gardener. Or perhaps a gardener-wizard. That copse isn't far from where Sparks and her family live.
The gnome seems somewhat deflated to see his comforting efforts fall flat. He quietly fiddles with one end of his moustache, thinking while listening to Leah Elanath. The observant notice a sideways glance to Sparks when she admits to her experience in the vast wood, but he says nothing.
Cath nods as Leah tells her story. He has never really ventured very far into the woods, having spent most of the last decade walking along roads and staying in towns, so his knowledge of the local forest is pretty minimal. If the kid went in there, I wouldn't even know where to start. Some help would probably be handy, even if it means splitting the thousand shiny.
He rubs his face with the palm of his hand, the bristly scruff reminding him that he forgot to shave this morning. His brown eyes look around the room at the other would-be adventurers, trying to sum them up. Sparks there looks like she knows her way around the wood pretty good, but the wizard girl looks like she'll be just as lost as me. That gnomish fellow… Urmos, Umros? I bet he's got some tricks up his sleeve, probably lives under a tree somewhere around here. Not sure about the black-haired fighter lady; she seems like she'll be a little lost, but she'll be resourceful, I could tell that from the trip, we fighting types always are. But Langblade… seriously? That's got to be a fake name. I wonder who she's running from…
Cath's attention snaps back to the conversation at hand when the barkeep plunks the "coffee" down on the table. Looks more like dirty water. “Any pointers on where we should start looking, ma'am?”
"Thank you," Tainesh says as the tea arrives. She gives the bartender four copper coins. "A cup for the Elf too, if she wants some."
Sparks nods a gentle yes then moves to drag a chair over from a nearby table. "What a strange day," she muses aloud as she sits down. "I... I check the job board for the first time since my arrival and I find myself indebted to two kind strangers before noon meal." She turns to Leah Elenath and says, "Please continue, ma'am."
Umros can't think of anybody.
"I really don't know, he might have?" Leah looks at Sparks in confusion. "He should never have left, that's not like James." She takes a deep breath. "But yes, he loved the woods near our house. He may have gone that way..."
The bartender grunts in response to Clearpath's question. But brings over another hot cup of "tea" at Tainesh's request.
Ms Elenath looks to the door of the hall. "I don't know why he would leave, I think... I think someone must have taken him..." She swallows down the bile building up in her throat. "Please, you must find him. He's all I have." She looks at each one of you pleadingly. Eyes resting on Cath she shakes her head and offers; "I really don't know, there's a clearing he likes, it's only a hundred yards from our home... Or, or, he has friends... His best friend lives across the way. Her name is Tammy. I, I just don't know." The woman tiredly lowers her head into her hands. She would cry if she had any tears left.
Langblade shifts from one foot to the other awkwardly when Elenath pleads for the groups help. She turns to one side and kind of mumbles. "Well, yeah. Of course we'll find him."
”He never should have left...” Umros Whippoorwill finds the phrase peculiar, especially since his feet have wandered since he could walk. If the boy merely ran away, it would be at a terrible expense to his mother… He frowns, distracted by the bartender’s lack of enthusiasm. As the man brings over the tea, the gnome slides two gold pieces over the table to the barkeep. He forces a smile up at the grunting man.
“This would get me good and silly on your cheapest house ale. But I am willing to sacrifice one raucous night of drinking to hear what you might know about James and his disappearance, fine sir.”